


Tales of men

by Ischa



Series: Skin-verse [4]
Category: Bandom, Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/M, Gen, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about how ,while their siblings are at Bryar's and Emilie's looking for ways to fight the apocalypse and babysitting an Angel of the lord and a shapeshifter, Gerard and Dean go on a monster-hunting road-trip and meet Damon.</p><p>  <i><br/>“Run along,” Dean repeats.<br/>Damon grins, but starts walking away from the scorched grass and blood and them. Gerard crushes the butt of his cigarette under the heel of his boot and lights a third one.<br/>“Fucking H.P. Lovecraft,” he says, exhaling smoke.</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales of men

**Pairing:** Bob Bryar/Emilie Autumn, past Gerard/Dean/William, various implied  
 **Rating:** PG-113  
 **Summary:** A story about how ,while their siblings are at Bryar's and Emilie's looking for ways to fight the apocalypse and babysitting an Angel of the lord and a shapeshifter, Gerard and Dean go on a monster-hunting road-trip and meet Damon. _  
“Run along,” Dean repeats.  
Damon grins, but starts walking away from the scorched grass and blood and them. Gerard crushes the butt of his cigarette under the heel of his boot and lights a third one.  
“Fucking H.P. Lovecraft,” he says, exhaling smoke._  
 **Warning(s):** off screen violence, mentions of sex with minors  
 **Author’s Notes:** [Skin-Verse-Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10767). But can be read on its own.  
[Art by chosenfire28](http://chosenfire28.livejournal.com/256333.html). Written for the sncross-bigbang.  
 **Word Count:** 16.050  
 **Beta:** tygermine  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real 

\---  


 **~1~**  
Dean is watching Brendon's every freaking move and he knows that Gerard is watching him in return. It doesn't bother him that much anymore. Maybe it should, but the thing is that this house is slowly becoming a home. Except that it's getting crazier and crazier by the freaking second.

~+~  
“So?” Gerard asks. Dean knew that Gerard would come to find him sooner or later. He was betting on sooner, actually. He turns his head, leaning against the wall of the house and looks at Gerard. He's smoking, because he always seems to be. It is a perfectly warm spring afternoon, but Gerard's wearing a black hoodie anyway. His hair is a hell-fire pit red now. It looks ridiculous and makes him seem younger. To be honest, Dean wouldn't have given him a second glance if he passed him on a street somewhere. He sure as hell wouldn't have thought Gerard was a hunter. 

“So, what?” he asks. 

Gerard exhales the smoke and then takes another drag. Dean watches and waits. Maybe Gerard is gathering his thoughts, maybe he's asking Mikey something. Who the hell knows?

“So, Brendon,” Gerard settles on eventually. It is kind of self-explanatory. Dean has to admit that. Dean was on the phone with Bobby for more than half an hour just ten minutes ago, because he wanted more than the kid's word and some fairy dust theories. Seems Bobby has only the fairy dust theories for now. Not that Bobby isn't digging shit up as they speak. 

“I can't prove he isn't what he says he is,” Dean answers. 

“I know. We tried everything, too.” 

“Do you believe him?” Dean wants to know. 

“I have no idea. I want to believe him,” Gerard says. 

“And Mikey?” 

“He wants to believe him too.” 

“I wonder what good he can do anyway. He doesn't look like he can do much and besides why now? Why you?” 

“Us,” Gerard corrects. The fucker even thinks that's true, too. But then Gerard always seems a bit crazy to Dean. Gerard takes another drag of his cigarette. 

“I called Bobby, because if his story is true, I am sure someone has seen one of them already along the way. I mean they are as old as humanity, aren't they? And I know that hunters have existed for at least the past 300 freaking years.” 

“I have a theory about Van Helsing,” Gerard throws in. 

Dean smiles. “Of course you do. My point is: someone should have encountered one before.” 

“Maybe they have and didn't believe them either.” 

“It's just too freaking absurd.” 

“But demons aren't?” Gerard asks and his voice has this gentle quality to it that he uses with William sometimes. Or Mikey. Dean's never had it directed at him before. It's nice and kind of pisses him off too. 

“We weren't raised with fairy tales and unicorns and no one ever told us about angels,” which isn't true, because he can remember his Mom telling him exactly that. But that memory is a single one and it's one from the time before. The time they try not to think about and don't talk about either. It's too painful and besides Sam can't even remember Mom anyway. It's stupid really because all Dad ever did to them was because of Mom.

“We were,” Gerard says. “Helena, our grandmother, she told us fairy tales and backed us cookies. That's how we were raised and maybe that's why we can believe that there are good things out there. Even if they aren't human.” 

Dean closes his eyes. Sometimes he wishes he and Sam had that too, even if only for a little while. But they didn't and they can't do shit about it. 

“Still, I don't trust him. And I don't think he knows what he's doing.”

“I don't think he knows what he's doing either,” Gerard admits. His cigarette is burned down to the filter and he crushes it against the wall to make sure it's out. “He is pretty new at this and Brendon, the real Brendon is pretty dominating. I don't think that's how this really works, usually.” 

“If we can go on stuff we know about demons, you mean.” 

“Yes. That.” He keeps silent for a while and Dean tries to sum up this clusterfuck they found themselves in since Pastor Jim died. It's pretty hard to do, actually. Too much stuff happened and he still has no idea what they got themselves into by siding with the Ways. 

“So, Bob is making salmon, you coming?” Gerard asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He is feeling hungry and it's nice to have home-made meals every day. Bob's cooking is freaking delicious as is Emilie's and even Sam seems to be eager to cook when he isn't studying dusty books about witchcraft and angels in Emilie's library. 

“Good, he is looking for someone to cut the carrots too,” Gerard answers with a smile. 

“And why can't anyone else do it?” 

“Mikey, William, Sam and Brendon are playing Uno in the living room and me and Emilie are working very hard on something or other in the library.” 

“Yeah, sure you are.”

“Go and contribute to the cooking, Dean,” Gerard says softly, but with a wink. 

Dean sighs, but follows Gerard back in and splits in the hallway with him to go and cut carrots in the kitchen. 

“About time that one of you lazy asses shows up,” Bob says thrusting a knife at him and gesturing to the carrots on the table. “I want them fine, Dean.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, but sits down and begins to slice carrots, the sooner he's done the sooner they can sit down to eat. 

~+~  
“More fairy dust theories, Bobby?” Dean asks. He is so done with this and he feels like hunting something down soon. He needs to get out of the house. Sam doesn't seem to share that feeling. He looks like he belongs here. With the playing cards in the evenings and reading books, and painting symbols and sigils with Emilie in the library. 

“I am not living with him.” 

“It,” Dean interrupts. He is not going to call Brendon a human being. Isn't going to get too close and attached. It's freaking hard too, because Brendon seems so genuinely interested in all of them. 

“Whatever you want to call Brendon,” Bobby says, “I do think, going on what you guys told me, he is an Angel of the Lord.” 

Dean can hear the capitals in that and groans. “Well, fuck. Thanks so much.” 

“It ain't my fault, boy. So don't give me fucking attitude.”

“Bobby-”

“I'm doing what I can. But if it looks like a duck, sounds like a duck, it's probably a duck.” 

“Or a demon wearing a duck-suite.”

Bobby grumbles something that Dean isn't too keen to make out and then says: “Yes or that. But I know that the Ways are as paranoid and careful as any hunters I've seen. They have a million sigils and signs to keep the evil things away. If it were there to harm you it wouldn't have been able to cross the porch.” 

He has a point and that point was made by Sam too and Gerard and Bob. The Ways are different, but they aren't stupid. The house is protected as well as you can protect a house. As good as Bobby's, maybe or even better. 

“Maybe it isn't there to harm us, but it could still be harmful.” 

“Dean,” Bobby says and there is something in his tone that Dean knows from playing ball in the backyard when Dad was off somewhere to hunt a monster under some other kid's bed instead of staying with them. With his own kids. “That's life,” Bobby settles on. “You just need to take the chances that present themselves to you.” 

It's true too and wise and shit, but it's hard for him to do, because taking chances wasn't something that Dad hammered into his head and sometimes it's really freaking hard to get Dad out of his brain.  
“Keep digging?” he says. 

“Sure, kid. I'll keep digging, but there really isn't anything else it could be.” 

“I know, I mean – I want to know how to hurt it if it wants to hurt us,” Dean answers. He's sure the Ways would protest, but then maybe they haven't seen what Dean and Sam have seen. He is better safe than sorry. 

“Yeah.,” Bobby says and then hangs up. 

Dean pushes his cell into his pocket and leans against the wall, overlooking the garden. There are herbs in one corner and tomatoes and what looks like strawberries in another, and a small area with flowers where there are three chairs and a small table, where William likes to sit under the tree to read. And far, far away from all that, by the line of birch and chestnut trees that mark the end of Bryar's land, the last remains of Pastor Jim. Dean's never been there. Sometimes he makes it as far as the line of small tulips, but never to the grave. Sometimes he still feels angry because he wasn't there to stop it all. To stop Pastor Jim from becoming that twisted creature. It's hard to think about the Pastor Jim who raised them when Dad wasn't there and Bobby was unable too, and the man who killed and tortured children. It's hard to think of them as one and the same person. 

Maybe he was mad like Mikey thinks or maybe he was possessed like William once said, Dean will probably never know. He would like to believe in the possession theory. It would make it easier and harder at the same time. Knowing he did all this because a demon made him would free Pastor Jim from being an evil monster. On the other side, no one should be trapped in his own mind and body. Besides, when Dean thinks about it – and he doesn't often – possession seems so unlikely. Pastor Jim protected the church and how could a demon get past all that to get to him? It doesn't make sense.  
Maybe he's gone mad. A lot of hunters do. He isn't sure he and Sam aren't. What with all the shit they have seen and been through. And Pastor Jim sure as hell has seen a lot worse in his time.  
He should have known better. He should've known that it's not okay to torture, rape and kill children because they aren't human. (Should have known that someone would come after him.) And that is something Dean is thinking about a lot too, now that he's living with the Ways and the rest of their merry band of misfits. The thing is that they are all at least part-human. 

When he can't sleep at night and makes his way to the kitchen downstairs from the room he's sharing with Sam, he often finds William there too.  
Sitting on one of Emilie's ancient looking chairs, where the paint peels in places, clutching a mug of tea and staring at the wall in the semi darkness of the house. Dean doesn't switch the light on, he goes over to the fridge, grabs a beer and sits down at a respectable distance from William in silence. It's comfortable in a way it maybe shouldn't be. Neither of them speaks of it the next morning. Once William said, as they were out grocery shopping (the Ways way to make them all bond): “We're like two cracked mugs in a cupboard.” And it made a whole lot more sense than it had any right to, Dean thinks. He lets his gaze linger a bit longer on the outline of the birch trees and then goes back to the house. Emilie is making meatballs today and William said he'll make some pear pie. 

 

 **~2~**  
“Messy killings in Chicago!” Dean says. His voice a little bit too excited for his own liking, but come on! He hasn’t had a hunt in weeks. He’s getting restless and bored. Sam rolls his eyes. Dean ignores him. 

“Let me see!” Gerard grabs the articles and reads through them fast. “Could be a werewolf or a chupacabra!” 

“It’s most likely a serial killer or a vampire, Gee,” Mikey says. 

“What’s with you and the chupacabra anyway?” Dean asks. 

“It’s a vampire _animal_ ,” Gerard answers. “And no one’s seen one so far.”

“Okay…” Dean says. Sam sniggers like this is normal behaviour for a hunter. Granted, Dean doesn’t know many hunters and he doesn’t care about knowing them either (Gordon cured him from that), but this is just too weird. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gerard huffs. 

“But you are a crazy person, Gerard,” Dean says and Gerard laughs. It’s so freaking weird to know that they had sex without having sex. It’s just…Dean can’t even explain it in his head. And every time Gerard makes this _noise_ , and he makes it when he takes his first sip of freaking coffee, Dean is reminded of all the delicious noises he made. He needs to get out, kill something, drink a lot and get laid three times with three different women before he feels like himself again. 

“You’re taking me, right?” Gerard asks. 

“I hunt with Sam, usually,” Dean says carefully. 

“Come on! Sam is of more use to us here, with the books and the magic and witch and someone has to look out for Bill.” And Brendon, goes unsaid here, but Dean hears it anyway. Gerard puts his hands on his hips and stares him down. Sam raises an eyebrow, Dean sighs. 

“Fine, but we take my car and we play my music.” 

“I like your music!” Gerard says, beaming at him. You would not believe he’s a hunter by just looking at him. Or speaking to him for that matter. 

~+~  
Gerard is talking all the way into the city and then some more. It’s like once you have him going it’s hard to shut him up. 

“Is there a way to shut you up?” Dean asks, handing him a cup of coffee at a rest stop. 

“Two. One is coffee,” he smirks and licks his lips and Dean closes his eyes. 

“Let’s not talk about that.” 

“You are no fun, Dean,” Gerard says, taking a sip of coffee. 

Dean nods, he is not. Not now anyway. But they really have bigger fish to fry. He wonders why the hell he thinks it's a good idea to go hunting now and with Gerard on top of that. Maybe because if he didn't go hunting, he would scream and then go crazy and kill everyone in the freaking house – including the Angel of the Lord. Not that Dean is sold on that one. Yet. His skin was beginning to itch, too. Like his hunter-part wanted to tear it apart and crawl out to get the show running again.

“We’re not here for fun.”

“Yeah, keep telling that to yourself,” Gerard answers and he doesn’t sound teasing anymore. Gerard is very matter of fact about the things in his life. He doesn’t lie to himself and he doesn’t lie to his brother, and Dean suspects he doesn’t like lying at all. Well, if you constantly have someone else in your head it seems a bit insane to even try. 

“Let’s find a place to stay, go over the reports and then do some field work,” he suggests and doesn't try to ask about why Gerard wanted to come with. Why he left Mikey and Bob and Emilie with the Angel and the shapeshifter kid. Maybe he needed to get away too. It happens to the best of them from time to time. And the thing is that Dean could just pack his stuff and go on a hunt this time, because he knows that Sam will be safe. That the house he's staying in, they are staying in, is protected and nothing bad can happen there to Sam. To Emilie, to William. 

“Sure,” Gerard answers easily enough. Dean suspects he needs his next fix of coffee and says it too. Gerard laughs. “I can function without it, but I don't want to. I mean we can't and shouldn't deny ourselves the simple pleasures.” 

Dan gives him a look, because that sounded highly suggestive, but Gerard looks perfectly civil and not like it was a come on. Dean knows all about the come ons, he's good at them too. This seems just like one of Gerard's random lectures. After all he's full of them. The funny thing is, Dean doesn't really mind them at all. 

 

 **~3~**  
The whole thing with Stefan is a clusterfuck of proportions Damon doesn’t even want to think about, and that is why he destroys Stefan’s room. Everything messed up comes back to fucking Stefan.  
He sits down in the middle of the room and breathes. He needs to get out and kill something. Maybe he needs to get away from Elena and all her humans and from Stefan as well. What was he even thinking coming here in the first place? He _knew_ Stefan would fuck him up, since Katherine he can’t seem to do anything else, _they_ did nothing else. He isn’t an innocent bystander here. But that is beside the point.  
And it’s not like Elena is on her own. She has a witch, a vampire and a freaking werewolf to back her up.  
He’s so done with this shit. 

~+~  
Chicago isn’t a new hunting ground, but it’s a fun one. There is just something about the city that calls to Damon. Might be the beer, the pizza, the women. Might be that it’s so far away from where he thinks Stefan and Klaus are killing people for sports. Not that Damon has the moral high ground here, but then Damon never wanted and never claimed to have it.  
He tosses the body aside and breathes the blood in. It’s a messy kill, but then this is no Mystic Falls, people here don’t believe much in vampires, or anything else. He can be as messy as he likes, maybe word might get around to Stefan. He looks forward to that day. 

~+~  
Damon knows all about hunters, but the guy holding the stake, well, he doesn’t look like he’s old enough to be out of school. On the other hand: Jeremy.  
Damon watches from the shadows as the boy stakes a random vampire and then closes his eyes. He didn’t fuck around with hunters for far too long. The boy sighs and puts the stake away. He seems just a little bit disappointed to Damon. A cell rings and the boy picks it up. 

“Not a chupacabra, just an ordinary vampire, but not sure it’s only that one or if there is a nest somewhere,” he says.  
Damon smirks. A chupacabra, really? For heaven’s sake! And of course there’s a nest. These filthy creatures living here can’t be alone or around humans. Damon is disgusted thinking about them.  
Just as he’s about to do something stupid like talking to that boy to mess with him, one of those filthy creatures comes out and Damon reacts, stakes the thing with a wooden object nearby. 

The boy’s head snaps in his direction. “I’ll call you back,” he says and Damon can hear someone protest on the other end of the phone, but the boy just hangs up. “So, thanks.” 

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Damon says and he means it. Elena, Stefan and fucking Mystic Falls made him a good doer. What the fuck! He didn’t even think about it.  
The boy pats his pockets and after he gets his pack out, lights a cigarette. He takes a deep drag. Damon likes how his lips curl around the filter. “You want one?”

“Sure,” Damon says. He doesn’t smoke that much anymore, but why the hell not? It’s not like he can die of cancer anyway. 

“So, you’re a hunter? You don’t look freaked out by this.” Gerard says with a wave to the staked vamps lying at their feet.

“I’m not freaked out by it, kid, but I’m no hunter either.” 

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You look it, but hey, I’m not judging.” 

The boy grins. “Gerard,” he says holding his hand out. 

It’s kind of charming. “Damon.” 

~+~  
Damon can’t help himself. He waits for Gerard the next day in front of the motel he knows Gerard is staying in.

“Stalker guy,” Gerard says, patting his pockets for his cigarettes. 

“Damon,” Damon answers, holding a cup of good coffee in Gerard’s direction.

Gerard smiles, fishing the pack out and lighting one. He holds the pack out and Damon takes one.

“I didn’t forget. Thanks,” he says as he takes a sip. He makes porn noises as he drinks his coffee: it’s disturbing. 

“You make porn noises when you drink coffee,” Damon observes. 

“People keep saying that.” 

“Gerard what the hell are you doing?” a guy yells from the window. 

“Uhm…Talking to strangers?” he says with a grin and gets out his pack of cigarettes, waving it in the window's direction. “And smoking.” 

“I swear to god! I’ll kill you one of these days. We do not talk to strangers. Especially not after-“ he waves a hand in an universal gesture that possible means ‘hunt’ or ‘clusterfuck’, it’s kind of the same to Damon. 

“That your boyfriend? Cause he’s cute, but kinda an ass,” Damon asks Gerard in his most charming voice. Gerard smiles at him, exhaling smoke. He looks really pretty that way. Damon bets he gets everything he wants with that smile and then some.

“Gee for fuck’s sake!” 

“Coming right up. I need my fucking morning smoke! And you can’t stand it in the room, like it’s worse than the-” Gerard grins, but it looks just a little bit dangerous. 

“Shut up in front of the stranger, Gee! What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Gerard shrugs. Damon is pretty sure this is a theoretical question anyway. 

“I was thinking breakfast if you aren’t in a hurry to stake vampires,” Damon says. 

“Can he come with? He is usually a better person after he’s had pancakes,” Gerard answers. 

Damon shrugs. “Sure, but we need to be introduced properly first.” 

Gerard laughs and then takes a deep drag from his cigarette. Damon risks a glance at Gerard's lips. Sometimes he likes to mess around with guys too and this one is pretty in a way most guys aren't. 

“You seem awfully formal all of a sudden,” Gerard observes, there is still a small smile playing around his pretty lips. It looks amused too. 

“I'm all about manners, I'll have you know.” 

“You didn't introduce yourself to the vampire you staked,” Gerard says. He flips the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement and takes a deep sip from his coffee. He closes his eyes as he does it. It looks like bliss should look on a small scale, Damon thinks.

“I usually don't find the time, between them attacking me and me trying to kill them. It would be unwise too. You should know. Don't all hunters?” 

Gerard nods, not denying that he isn't just a random dude running into a vampire and knowing what to do so they don't eat you and leave your corpse behind a dumpster in an alley, because he watched all the right movies and read all the right books.  
“We do. We are wary of strangers too, you know?”

“You don't seem the type,” Damon says and he isn't sure what he means, actually. That he isn't the type to be a hunter, or wary of strangers or something else entirely.

“I get that quite often,” Gerard replies. He drains his paper-cup of good coffee and throws it into a trash-can nearby. His phone rings and he makes an apologetic face at Damon. Damon nods. 

“Dean, yeah. Oh, okay. Be right up,” he hangs up and smiles. “My not boyfriend. I have to go up now, but we should totally get together for more coffee soon,” he says and gives Damon his number. 

 

 **~4~**  
Dean has no idea what it is about the guy, but he can’t really relax around him. Gee is all waving hands and stupid laughs and sucking on a spoon – for fuck’s sake. Without a care in the world. Dean ruled out shifter and were of any sort, also vampire, because they don’t walk in the sun and it is day right now. 

“So, you just happened to pass by as Gee was staking a vamp?” Dean asks. 

“No, I saw him, thought he looked cute and stalked him to that alley,” Damon says, all nonchalance.  
Gerard blushes. Oh for fuck’s sake, Dean thinks. 

“You think I’m cute?” he asks with that stupid little grin of his that shows all his freaky teeth. 

“Yeah, I do. I could eat you.” 

Gerard laughs and people are craning their necks to see what is going on. “I bet you would,” there is something in Gerard’s voice that lets Dean and Damon look at him sharply. 

Damon shakes it off first, taking a sip of coffee. “You guys need help with the vamp-nest?” he asks. 

“No,” Dean answers, because they don’t need an amateur on this one. 

“I am not an amateur,” Damon says as if he read his thoughts. And for all Dean knows he could be some kind of supernatural freak like the Ways (he means that in a fond way) or his own brother. 

“What then?” Gee asks. 

Damon shrugs like he doesn’t even know. Dean knows how that feels. He really doesn't want to sympathize with this guy, but when you look behind the 'they are all strangers and all strangers are trouble' thing that Dad taught them, they are all freaks of some sort. Some of them more than others. He doesn't know where he is on the freak-scale, himself. He does know that Brendon is all the way up there. He takes a bite of his pie and chews carefully. It's good pie too. Gerard has a thing for finding places with good coffee and pie. It's a gift. Maybe even more awesome than the mind-reading thing he and his brother have going on.  
“So what are you running from?” Dean asks after a while of comfortable silence. 

Damon’s smile is sharp as he answers, “Life.” 

“Good luck with that,” Gee says, taking another sip of his coffee.

Yeah, Dean thinks. As if anyone had had luck with that. Dean has tried. Gerard's grandmother has tried too, or so it seems to Dean from what he knows. They didn't make it. Life always catches up with you. The thing is, life has always time on its side. They don't. 

~+~  
It must be something about Gerard, something Dean has no power against, because he finds himself with that Damon guy in his backseat and Gee singing along to an old Cranberries song on the radio and they are on the road again. Gerard is driving. Damon’s eyes are closed, his head resting on the seat. He looks utterly relaxed. Like this is what he needs. Dean wonders what happened to Damon’s car briefly, but then just shrugs mentally. It’s not his problem. He has bigger fish to fry.

They stop at a diner a few hours later because Gerard is becoming unbearable. Damon leans against the car, close to Gerard, silently watching people mingle around. Dean is rummaging in his trunk to see if he packed the axe when a phone rings. 

“You wanna get that?” he hears Gee ask. 

“It’s probably Elena,” Damon answers. 

“I get you don’t want to talk to Elena.” 

“No, not really. I like when she’s being all torn up about me. What I do, where I am, who I kill, jaddajaddajadda…” Damon says. 

Dean grins, Damon might be a right bastard, be he grows on you. Not that he's going to admit that any time soon. The thing is that Gerard probably knows. After all Dean didn't leave Damon's sorry ass in Chicago and Gerard knows him pretty well by now. 

“Yeah, same old, same old,” Gee agrees, Dean can hear the easy smile in his voice. He finds the axe, closes the trunk and looks over the parking lot. 

“I’m going to get pie, someone else wants something?” 

“Coffee,” Gerard replies. 

“Colour me shocked,” Dean answers and Gerard gives him the finger with a smile. 

“I’ll take pie and coffee,” Damon says. 

Dean nods, they bought him breakfast, he can buy the guy pie and coffee. And Gerard too, for that matter. No matter what Gee says, you can’t live on coffee and cigarettes alone. And if Dean doesn't care for Gee, Mikey will have him by the short and curlys. Sam probably too. 

~+~  
“You need to call your brother,” Gerard says. They're outside because Dean likes sun on his face from time to time and Gerard needed a smoke. Dean has no idea where the hell Damon is but he is a grown man who knows how to use a stake (and a gun), so Dean isn't too worried about him.

“You talked to yours?” Dean asks. 

Gerard exhales and nods. “Sure. I talk to him all the time, even in the shower.” 

“Liar, you don't shower.” 

Gerard nudges him with his elbow in the ribs, there were it hurts, but not too hard. “I do. I just don't have a shower fetish like you.” 

“Hey!” Dean protests. “So how are things on the home-front lines?” 

“Okay, I guess.” Gerard shrugs. “William is thinking about going to school this fall.” 

“You think that's a good idea?” 

“Mikey said Brendon asked if he could go with.” 

“With William to school?” Dean asks. Suddenly he has a whole new set of problems. Two freaking supernatural teenage boys. And since when did he start to think of them as his problems too? Fuck.

“Yeah. I think that's the reason William thinks he could handle it all in the first place. He and Brendon are close. What with Brendon still trying to master the angel inside and with William, well, being William.” He shrugs. His cigarette is half forgotten already and burning steadily down. Dean isn't going to remind Gerard of it. Smoking isn't the best trait in a hunter. Compassion isn't either and Gerard does plenty of both. 

“Still,” Dean says, “I am not so sure this is a good idea.” 

“I want him to have a real life. I want them both to have a real life. You know Brendon was kicked out by his parents when he was barely sixteen? He lived on his own for a while, but it got too hard and he lost his job, wasn't able to go to school and then his shitty apartment burned down and he couldn't get a new place to stay. So he drifted and well, he was found by the angel that way. Nearly dead. He's from Las Vegas.” It's a random bit of information, the one about Las Vegas, Dean thinks, but then Gerard has a fondness for random things. 

“They aren't like us, Gee and I don't mean it in a bad way. Just they are still dangerous in some ways. No one can find out about them.”

“They get that, Dean. Believe me. They do.” 

“You mean William,” Dean says, softer than he means to. 

Gerard throws his butt away and looks ahead where cars are passing by. Random people, random lives. Thousand random small catastrophes. Not one of them concerning them.  
“Yeah, I mean William.” 

~+~  
The girl keeps calling and Damon keeps toying with the phone, put not picking up. Sometimes Dean wants to ask about it, but then it's not of his business and Damon is still essentially a stranger.  
When it comes down to it, he has no clue why he let Gerard talk him into taking Damon with them, but he doesn't regret it yet, so maybe it's a good thing and maybe he and Sam really need to be a bit more social. It doesn't hurt to be friends with the Ways and Bryar and Emilie. Just because Dad didn't have any friends, only people he left his kids with, doesn't mean they can't have them. After all, it's pretty clear that Dad doesn't give a shit about them now anyway. It may be different in a few weeks, months, whenever he wants to come back into their lives. Dean's life, as Dad has no idea that Sam is with Dean again, but well, it's not like that is Dean's fault either. Dad could just pick up his freaking phone from time to time. 

~+~  
He calls Sam because it's time to check in and he wants to know how things are back there from a source other than Gee. 

“Hey,” Sam says. He sounds good, Dean thinks. Relaxed, not so angry anymore too. Bryar's house isn't Stanford, but it isn't dozen of nameless motels somewhere, anywhere either. 

“How are things?” Dean asks. 

“I'm sure you know all about it. Mikey and Gerard are talking all the freaking time.” There's a smile in his voice. Dean relaxes too. 

“I want to hear it from someone I trust more than Gerard,” Dean says and he means it exactly like that. He does trust Gerard and Mikey. Trusts Gerard enough that he takes him on hunts, because it's turning out to be more than just a two day stay in Chicago after all. 

“Things are good. ppBobby is pretty sure Brendon is an Angel of the Lord and I am kinda freaked and excited about it. I mean an Angel of the Lord, Dean.” 

Dean can hear the capitals there too. He shakes his head slightly, watching Gerard gesturing while he talks to Damon outside the car. Damon's hip cocked against the door of the Impala. A paper-cup of coffee on its hood. 

“Yeah. A freaking angel of the lord. And what does that say? The apocalypse is near then and Emilie was right about it?” 

Sam keeps silent for a second too long. “Yeah, we think so. Angels don't walk the earth for no reasons. The thing is, Bobby did some digging, that somehow Brendon isn't done right.” 

“What?” 

“Usually, the ancient textbooks say, usually the Angel takes the host-body over completely. Like demons do it, but without the host-body, soul, whatever, knowing anything that is happening – unlike demons who let their hosts know every single horrible thing. So when the Angel leaves the host-body they have no memory whatsoever of the time the Angel took their body. You know? And Brendon kind of merged with the Angel. Brendon is the Angel and the Angel is Brendon.” 

“You mean, you have a teenage boy with the powers of a freaking angel of the lord?” Dean clarifies. 

“Basically yeah.” 

“Is that a good thing or not?” 

“He is our teenager with Angel powers, so I guess, it's better than the alternative?” Sam says. 

Dean closes his eyes. “You want me to come back?” 

There is silence at the other side of the line, which means Sam is thinking about it. “No. I think we can figure this out. Brendon doesn't have access to all the memories of the Angel, but some are coming back. Emilie is helping him remember and he and William are bonding and we're speaking about school in fall-”

“If we're all still alive then,” Dean throws in, he can't help it. Someone has to face the facts here. 

“Yeah. But you can have your little hunting trip. I know you like to be on the road. It's what feels natural to you,” Sam says, ignoring Dean's gloom. Dean can't blame him. Sam likes to focus on the things at hand and they still aren't dead and no one can say they will be by fall. Maybe they won't.

“Did you hear from Dad?” he asks. It comes a bit out of the blue, because it was Sam who said that Dad doesn't want to be found. On the other side, he is their Dad. Sam is bond to worry a bit too. 

“No,” Dean answers. He doesn't want to talk about Dad. There are other things that need his attention. Like the angel, the shapeshifter and the coming apocalypse. 

Gerard waves his hands all excitedly and Dean smiles. “I have to go, but keep me posted if stuff goes south.” 

“Sure,” Sam answers. “Enjoy killing the things that go bump in the night, Dean.” 

“Enjoy dusty books and talking to the angel,” he replies and hangs up before Sam can formulate a smart-ass comment. 

“So, done?” Gerard asks as he approaches the car. 

“Yeah, everything is fine, or as fine as it can be,” he answers. 

Gerard nods. He knew that of course, because Mikey told him. “So, another nice hunting trip? I found this thing-” he stops and opens the car door to hunt down his sketchbook that also has a bunch of printouts and notes stacked between the pages. 

Dean doesn't care what it is, he is sure it will be something. “Yeah, sure, tell us all about it on the way there.” 

 

 **~5~**  
This whole hunter-road-trip thing was more of a whim than anything, but then the best things in Damon's life were – or total catastrophes. He thinks it turns out alright. A bit of hunting, a bit of being on the road, a lot of breaking into hospitals when Dean and Gee are busy doing stuff Damon isn’t interested in much. It’s playing with fire of course, being with them 24/7 and Elena keeps calling. He’s seriously pondering to just throw the phone out, but Stefan has the number as well. 

“She your ex or what?” Dean asks. He looks at the phone in Damon’s hand. They’re parked beside the road because Gerard needed a cigarette break badly. Again. This guy has a serious problem there, but then all hunters have some serious problems. Dean is drinking way too much, not that Damon has any room to judge here. 

“It’s complicated and seriously she has bigger problems than me being absent,” he answers. 

“Like what?” 

“Like her boyfriend being absent,” Damon answers. 

“Her boyfriend is missing?” Dean asks. 

“It’s more like he doesn’t want to be found,” Damon says and it sounds bitter, even to his own ears. Fuck Stefan, seriously. 

“Tell me about it,” Dean says. He leans against the car, his head thrown back, his throat bared and Damon has the urge to bite down or lick and then bite down or maybe kiss and lick and then bite down. He looks away and catches Gerard looking at him or maybe them. He smirks. They so had sex, he thinks. 

“So there is s poltergeist a state over in a small town with a cosy bed and breakfasts…” Gerard says, exhaling smoke. 

“You’re kidding, right? Do you do that on purpose? Like you find the most wacky cases in the most charming towns?” Dean asks. 

Gerard shrugs. “Maybe I do, maybe me and Mikey think that you need to get away for a while and what better than a charming cursed town. So you can relax and kill something! Two birds, one stone.” 

“I relax while I kill something,” Dean answers with a sharp grin. Damon likes that grin. And he wholeheartedly agrees with that sentiment too. 

Damon nods his head. “I’m with him on that one, Gee,” he throws in. 

Gerard sends him a betrayed look. “They are famous for their pie.”

“Did I tell you about that small town with the apple pies and the scarecrow?” Dean asks. 

“No, but I always love to hear a good story. Now get in. There is a poltergeist to hunt!” He flips the butt on the pavement and opens the car. Damon climbs in. He doesn’t really care much about what he can hunt. It’s all good. Maybe he should’ve made a carrier of that instead of tormenting Stefan for the last few centuries. Might have been a healthier way to deal with all his family shit.

“You okay?” Gerard asks, turning around to look at him. 

“I’m…starving,” he answers, because it’s true. He didn’t have an opportunity to feed in days. All these small towns only allow for a little sip here or there. Not really enough. He feels on edge just thinking about it. 

“Do we need to stop at some restaurant or something?” 

“That would be great.” Maybe a random diner with lots of driftwood people. Some people don't want to be found, some people never will be and you can get so lost while road-tripping or hitch-hiking. 

Gerard nods and Dean switches on the radio. Ulrich’s voice calms the hunger down a bit. 

~+~  
Gerard is a honest to god dork. He gets them rooms in the haunted hotel and grins madly at them as he tells them. 

“I said it to two kids once and I am saying it again: If someone tells you a building is haunted, don’t go in!” 

“But we are hunters, we need to be where the action is,” Gerard argues. He has a point there, Damon thinks.

“He is not,” Dean says with a sidelong look at Damon. 

“ _He_ is fine and can speak for himself,” he answers with a grin. “So, is it really haunted or just…blah, blah, we need more tourists haunted?” 

“Who knows? Let’s find out!” 

Damon honestly expects Gee to clap his hands like a five year old. He doesn’t which is a bit of a let-down. 

“Why did I even take you with?” Dean asks.

“Me or him?” Damon wants to know. 

“Him, it’s because of him that I took you with,” Dean replies. It sounds fond, Damon thinks. 

“And there I thought it was because I’m charming,” Damon answers and Dean laughs. 

~+~  
The haunted hotel is of course not haunted, the poltergeist Gerard was rambling about on the other side is very, very real and creepy and dangerous. 

“I like to kill ghosts the most,” Gerard says, his face is bloody and dirty and he’s smoking his cigarette like it could save his life. It can't, but Damon isn't going to tell him that. He is pretty sure Gerard knows anyway.

“Because they’re already dead?” Dean asks. 

Gerard nods. “It’s like you are actually able to save them too, not only the people they haunt. But the lost souls, too.”

“Unlike shifters or weres or vampires?” 

“Yeah. I’m not saying that shifters don’t have a soul and can be good people, because we know that it's untrue anyway,” Gerard says. 

Dean snorts. “You would.”

“Mikey says, fuck you!” Gerard answers sweetly. 

“Who the heck is Mikey?” Damon throws in. 

“My brother,” Gerard says. He cocks his head to one side, and then sighs, but doesn’t say anything more and Damon doesn’t ask anything else, because his phone rings again. 

“I’m sick of this,” Dean says, leaning against the hood of the car. 

Damon looks at the phone and then Dean grabs it and pushes the freaking button. “Damon thank god! Where are you? Have you found Stefan?!” He hears Elena's voice. Vampire hearing is great like that.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you, he doesn’t know when he’ll be back and stop calling him,” Dean says. Damon raises an eyebrow. 

“Who’s this?! If you’ve done something to him-“

“He’s fine. Just stop fucking calling. I am sick of the phone ringing when I want to sleep,” Dean interrupts her. 

“I…”

Damon laughs. “Give me that,” he says and Dean hands it over. “Don’t call anymore, Elena.” He hangs up and sighs. 

“That bad, hmm?” Gerard asks. 

“Worse.”

“Feel like killing something?” he wants to know. 

“You have no idea. But maybe I’ll just find someone to fuck instead, yeah? See you guys later.” 

“That isn’t a half bad plan,” Damon hears Dean say, as he watches him make his way down the road.  
Gerard snorts. 

~+~  
Things are a bit tense as they pack up their stuff, but Damon ate a homeless guy last night – he was dirty and intoxicated, but it had to do – and he feels so much better and calmer. 

“So, you guys had a ‘French mistake’ or what?” he asks.  
Gerard laughs out loud. 

“A what?” Dean asks. 

“It’s when two straight dudes have had sex,” Damon answers. 

“I’m not straight,” Gerard throws in.

“How is it called then if only one guy is straight?” 

“Having sex,” Gerard answers. 

“Or just plain mistake.” Dean throws his backpack into the trunk and closes the lid loudly. 

“I would never call you a mistake, Gerard,” Damon says with a smile. Gerard smiles back. 

“Get in the car,” Dean says opening the door. 

“He is no fun on his good days, and today is not a good day, is it?” Damon sighs. 

“You can walk for all I care,” Dean snaps. 

“He needs to work out his issues about being straight,” Damon whispers into Gerard’s ear and feels Gerard shiver. God, this would be such a bad idea. It’s not like he can make Gee into one of his fake girlfriends and they usually die anyway. Such a freaking bad idea and Dean would kill him for it and the illusive Mikey too from what he gathered. He knows brothers and Gee seems like a guy who could maintain a good brotherly relationship. He should just get out of the car at the next rest-stop and steal a new one, drive as far away from this as he can. Maybe he thinks, maybe he’s only road tripping with hunters because he has no clue what to do about Stefan and Elena. And the whole mess with Klaus and the hybrid thing. Maybe he should just tell Dean and Gerard about it and let them kill them all. Maybe he’s too selfish and messed up for it. 

~+~  
“It’s like trouble just finds you!” Dean spits and rubs his hands on his ruined jeans.

Gerard shrugs and lights a cigarette with bloody fingers. It’s not his blood, it’s not even human blood and that is a good thing too. Damon feels restless and hungry again. After a hunt he just wants to sink his fangs into a nice pale throat and then fuck the hell out of whoever he fancies. He doesn’t really care much. 

“So, you guys feel horny all the time too after these little adrenaline fuelled hunts?” he asks. 

“Are you offering?” Gerard smiles. 

“Maybe.” Damon grins back. Gerard takes a long drag and then exhales slowly. He’s a tease, Damon realised that pretty early on. 

“I need a drink and a shower,” Dean says. He's staring at the blood on his hands.

“In that order?” Gerard asks. 

“I don't care,” Dean answers. He sounds like it too. Like he is ready to just drop and not get up for a long, long time. 

“We should find a nice hotel. I need a bath” Damon throws in and he needs a nice dinner as well. Bigger cities mean less people who care. 

“We can't-”

“Yes we can. I can. I am filthy rich and I don't want to stay a minute longer in the car,” Dean interrupts. 

Dean looks at him. “Filthy rich, hmm?”

“I don't brag.”

Gerard laughs out loud. “Yeah?”

Damon rolls his eyes. “Much. I don't brag much.”

“Let's find a hotel then.”

“You're paying, right?” Dean asks. 

“Yeah, I am,” Damon answers and knows he doesn't only mean for the rooms. 

 

 **~6~**  
Dean has no idea why he didn't check out Damon's background before. It was stupid and dangerous, but Gerard has a way with words. He makes even the most insane things sound like they're a good idea. 

“Salvatore,” Gerard says. He's trying the word out. “Damon Salvatore.”

“And his absent brother Stefan.” 

“As in Elena's boyfriend,” Gerard says. 

“Yes.”

“Makes you wonder why he doesn't try to find his brother, and is road tripping with us, doesn't it?” 

Dean shrugs. “Not everyone is so messed up like us.” And he means of course Sam and him. Not Gee and Mikey. 

“I guess. It isn't our business anyway.” 

“When did that ever stop us?” Dean asks, leaning against the wall. Even the wall feels nice. The wallpaper is smooth and cool under his fingertips. And clean. He maybe loves the hotel a bit. And the awesome shower.

“Never?” Gerard asks with a grin, getting his pack out. He isn't allowed to smoke in the room, but Gerard is a rebel. 

Dean smiles. “Never. Could you do that on the balcony?” 

Gerard makes a face, but complies, because Gerard is a fucking considerate person. 

~+~  
Damon looks better when he comes back that evening from wherever he tends to disappear to. Maybe he's drinking sailors under the freaking table. It's not like Dean can judge. He is drinking sailors and other people under the freaking table too, from time to time. 

“Feeling better?” Gerard asks. He is playing with a pen. Doodling on a piece of paper he found in the desk. This is a freaking nice hotel and Dean never ever wants to stay in any other. Which isn't going to happen so he's going to enjoy this as long as he can. 

“Yeah,” Damon says. He’s staring at Gerard’s face and something about it doesn’t sit right with Dean, even if he has no clue why. Damon was nothing but helpful and actually a great distraction. But sometimes it’s like Dean can see under Damon’s skin, can feel something else there. Something dangerous. On the other hand, they all are. He is and Gerard for all his harmless looking act is a crazy motherfucker who can kill you with his bare hands. Dean shouldn't be afraid for Gerard. Gee can take care of himself. “There is nothing that a few drinks and a nice girl can’t do to get your mind off of stuff that you don’t want to think about.” 

Dean can agree to that. Even if it's only a temporally solution, but then nothing is meant to last forever. As long as it works and keeps him sane he's going to stick with it. 

Damon throws his jacket on the small sofa and falls face down on the bed close to where Gerard is sitting. Gerard just rolls with it. Dean is pretty sure Mikey did that too when they were younger. Sam used to when Dean was reading comics or after long school days. 

Dean wonders what Damon will do when this little trip of theirs is over. Someday, sooner rather than later they'll have to get back. And Dean feels like he can. Now. Now he feels better, less restless, less overwhelmed. Like he can deal with Sam, Bill and the angel of the lord, Brendon. Like he can face the freaking apocalypse. The good thing he thinks, is that he doesn't have to do it alone. That he and Sam don't have to do it alone. Without Dad and with demons and other scum on their heels.  
He glances over at Gee and Damon whose eyes are closed. He looks better too. Like he could rest for a while. Here.  
He wonders if Gerard is ready to face his own problems back home. But then if he thought he was ready he would tell Dean to drive back to Bryar's. He didn't yet.  
Dean closes his eyes and listens to the soft music that is some new rock band, Dean has never heard of, but Gerard likes to listen to. They aren't half bad. 

~+~  
“How long do you want to stay on the road?” Dean asks, handing Gerard a coffee mug. He doesn't like to be the one to bring it up, but back home people are fighting the apocalypse – or trying to and they can't stay on the road forever. Even if on some days that sounds like a freaking great idea. 

“As long as we need to.”

“We could be on the road for the rest of our lives, Gee,” he answers. 

“I now. Do you feel like you can be with other people again? Like you can be around the Letos and Bill again?” 

“The witch freaks me out way more, to be honest,” Dean grins. 

Gerard smiles at him. He looks young that way and cocky. Dean likes that smile. “I figured. One of these days you need to tell me all about it.”

“A man needs to keep some secrets to stay interesting.” 

“I find you interesting enough.” 

“So…Damon?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t know. It seemed like he needed someone and I like him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone, Dean,” Gerard answers, lighting a cigarette. Dean isn’t going to bitch about it now, outside’s cold and Gerard at least opened the window. Dean would like to say he trusts Sam, but he thinks Gerard knows that it’s bullshit. 

“I just don’t get him.”

“Everyone has their own problems they run from.”

“Yours is Bill?”

“He’s not a problem, Dean.”

“He’s an underage shifter kid, Gerard.”

“I know that. But it’s not like I forced him or anything. He wanted it too.”

“I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“You’re so romantic,” Gerard rolls his eyes and it makes Dean angry. 

“It's not like you're not freaking torn up about it, Gerard, and we do have bigger problems. This is a clusterfuck, but it is a small clusterfuck if you set it in context to the freaking apocalypse,” he explodes. 

“It's you who wants to go home,” Gerard answers calmly. 

“It doesn't matter that much. I mean I am okay, or as much as I can be, but we need to be able to function too. Without being all torn up about the fact that you had sex with an underage shifter kid.” 

“I wish you wouldn't call him that.” 

“That's what he is.” 

“Not only,” Gerard says sharply. He inhales smoke and lets it in a bit too long before he exhales slowly again. 

Dean sighs. “I don't mean it in a bad way and you know it. It would be complicated enough if he were just another run away or orphan you picked up, but he is not and you don't even know what he is capable off.” 

“He's not evil.” 

“I didn't say that and it's not the issue at hand. The question is, are you okay to let him be? Can you do your job without having him constantly on your mind?” 

“Can you?” Gerard gives back. 

Dean nods. He can. The thing is that he never was interested in men anyway. The thing with Gerard/William was just a – he has no idea what, but in no way normal behaviour. It was more like a spell. He doesn't feel violated by it, because part of him wanted it at the time too. Even if it only was the part of his brain that likes to have his dick sucked.  
“I'm ready to face the apocalypse back home.” 

“It's happening everywhere,” Gerard answers calmly and it is the fucking truth. Things are getting bad. More ghosts, more possessions, more shifters and weres running free and not caring much either. Like they just know that soon there will be a new world order and they won't have to hide anymore.  
“I'm not. I need to think a bit more. One more hunt?” Gerard asks, his cigarette is burned down to the filter. He flips it on the pavement and lights another one. 

“You have something in mind already?” 

“I might or might not have found another one of these cute little haunted villages,” Gerard agrees. Sometimes Dean suspects he only wants to drive there to get a few hours of sketch-time in. 

“We can do that,” Dean says, because they can. If things back home would've been really bad Sam would've called. Mikey would too. So he can assume the house is still standing and that demons aren't trying to kill them all. 

~+~  
“Why not a big town for a change? A city like New Orleans?” Damon asks from the back-seat. 

“Too many witches,” Dean says flatly. New Orleans witches freak him the hell out. More than other witches even, maybe. And then there are the people that think they can mess around with voodoo, hoodoo and witchcraft like they please and nothing bad will ever happen. He isn't keen on helping those idiots. 

“Other hunters are taking care of that. People who live there,” Gerard throws in. 

Damon groans and rests his head against the window. “You are a bunch of good-doers.” 

“As if you didn't know that. Don't act all surprised now on our asses,” Dean says. 

“I like big cities. They are nice and glittery and anonymous.” 

“They are lonely,” Gerard answers. 

“Sometimes it's good to be alone. Sometimes it's good to have a good time with a bunch of strangers,” Damon says. He's looking out of the window now. He looks younger than he really is that way. Vulnerable like he doesn't like to let other people see him. Dean gets that too. Dean sometimes wonders about Damon and why he doesn't go back to his house in the country and his millions and the people he calls his friends. 

~+~  
It starts to rain a few miles from the nameless little town Gerard booked rooms for them in. It pours cats and dogs like something doesn't want them to get there. Dean is ready to believe in witchcraft. But he might be a bit paranoid when it comes to that. 

“Great,” Damon says, stretching a bit in the back-seat. He was sleeping for some hours. “Rain. Heavy rain. Isn't that charming?” 

Gerard turns to smile at him. “You'll be fine, except you're the son of the Wicked Witch of the East. Then you might have a problem.” 

“I could call my last girlfriend that,” Damon answers with a sharp grin.  
Gerard laughs. 

~+~  
It's the nicest hotel in town and it has this shabby chick going on that girls like and guys only agree to because they want to have as much sex as you can have on the very freaking soft covers. Dean breathes the scent of lavender and cleanness in and closes his eyes. This is how life should be, not cheap motels that smell of beer and all the people that slept there before. Old pizza and spilled coffee. He's going to sleep now, while Gerard has coffee and a long talk with his brother and Damon is exploring the freaking village. They agreed to be people for the rest of the day. The rain is still falling heavy. Dean can hear it knocking against the window glass. Like a creepy lullaby. It's okay, he thinks. He can deal with that stuff better than other people and then it's only rain anyway.  
He turns and grabs the blanket, freaking soft too and it smells like lavender and roses, tucks himself in and lets his mind drift until he's asleep. If something urgent should appear – like a sea-monster or whatever, he's sure they guys will wake up. _Cthulhu_ , something whispers, but Dean isn't really awake enough anymore to take it in. 

~+~  
“That was unexpected,” Gerard says. He looks shaken, Dean thinks. Hell, Dean is shaken is the thing. There is blood on Gerard's face. Blood and something bluish and slimy. He wipes it away with the back of his free hand. The other one is pointing a gun at Damon. Dean can't blame him. Damon is spitting out blood and bluish slime onto the grass. Farther away the grass is torched where they used a lot of freaking fire to kill that nightmarish thing. Dean has no idea how it's called and he doesn't think he wants to know either. 

Damon spits once again and then wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He looks up at them. “So,” he says, “I guess the secret is out now.” He doesn't seem very bothered that he has guns trained at him, but then he isn't a human being, so. Dean has a stake back in the trunk of the car. He could get it. 

“Yeah,” Gerard says. He pats his hoodie with his free hand for a cigarette and Dean can see when it dawns on him that he needs two hands to light it because he only has matches and gives up his search for the crumbled pack. He takes a deep breath and lowers his gun, puts it away and Damon looks at him like he's the freak here. 

“What are you doing?” Dean wants to know. 

“I need a freaking smoke. He just saved our lives from an ancient sea-monster. I don't think he's going to drink our blood now,” Gerard says, and it sounds far too reasonable for Dean's taste. Since they met the Ways Dean is far too friendly with the not-human things. He's not ready to let go of his gun just now. It's true Damon did save their lives by using his vampire speed, strength and teeth. But that only means that he's a vampire and evil.  
Gerard lights one and inhales deeply. 

“So?” Damon asks. 

“I have a stake back in the trunk,” Dean answers. 

“I know,” Damon says.  
What the fuck? If he knew why didn't he get rid of it. Is he suicidal? 

“We're going home,” Gerard throws in. He looks better, steadier now after inhaling his first cigarette. Going home was the plan all along. One last gig and then back to Bryar's to fight the apocalypse. Dean feels still a bit shaken, but he lowers the gun. 

“And you're letting me live?” Damon asks. 

Gerard nods and Dean does too. What good would it do to kill Damon now? Truth is Dean doesn't have many friends and it wouldn't do to kill the few he has. 

“Run along,” Dean says. 

“What you're not giving me a ride to the next town?” 

“Run along,” Dean repeats. 

Damon grins, but starts walking away from the scorched grass and blood and them. Gerard crushes the butt of his cigarette under the heel of his boot and lights a third one.

“Fucking H.P. Lovecraft,” he says, exhaling smoke. 

“Who?” Dean asks. 

Gerard gives him a look. “The author who wrote about these kinds of monsters?” 

“Never heard of him.” 

“What? Were you raised under a rock?” 

“I had better things to do than read old dusty books about monsters when I didn't need to,” Dean answers, he's watching the street, but he can't make out Damon anymore. 

“Like what?” Gerard answers. 

“Like girls.” 

“Oh,” Gerard says with a smile. 

“Yeah, oh,” Dean replies. “Ready to get into the car and out of that fucking town with the crazy people and witches?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Gerard says, flipping the butt of his cigarette away. 

~+~  
On the way back Gerard is silent. Mostly. They listen to the radio and Dean suspects Gerard is talking out shit with Mikey in his head, their heads. Whatever. Dean's alone with the things in his head. Sometimes he wishes he weren't, but on most days it's the only thing that he can bear. The knowledge that people don't know how badly he's damaged. 

As soon as they're home stuff’s gonna get ugly and fast. If freaking ancient sea-monsters are haunting small cosy villages shit is about to hit the fan. He wonders how far they are with the dusty books and prophecies. Not that Dean believes much in prophecies. But it can't hurt to look into the whole crap either. 

He speeds up and Gerard gives him a small smile before his gaze turns inwards again and to whatever he's talking with Mikey about.  
Dean misses Sam suddenly painfully. 

 

 **~7~**  
Mikey is hugging the living shit out of Gerard in the hallway just a few seconds after they enter the house. Dean is just standing there and looking. They're grabbing at each other like they haven't seen each other for years instead of weeks. 

“You smell like smoke and rain,” Mikey says. 

“You smell like home,” Gerard answers softly and Dean would've been uncomfortable with this kind of display if it weren't for the fact that he witnessed it before on a daily basis and that they're the Ways and just don't know any other way to exist. 

Dean can make out Sam and William hovering in the entrance to the living room. William smiles and waves a bit with his fingers. Sam only smiles. A slight nod of his head that means 'I'm glad you're back, or not dead'. It's really the same. 

Dean can't make out Brendon, the angel of the lord, or Emilie and Bob. But something smells delicious, so he guesses at least one of them is in the kitchen. He hopes it's not the angel of the lord. Somehow he doesn't think Brendon would be good at cooking. 

Gerard and Mikey untangle themselves and look at each other goofily. 

“Okay, can you guys move it?” Dean asks. He feels like sitting down with a nice cup of coffee and listen to the kids rumble away about dusty books and school and wait for dinner. 

“Yeah,” Mikey answers, taking Gerard's hand. 

They move to the living room. Snuggling closer than close on the couch. William sits down on the thick carpet. 

“The Letos will be here soon too,” he says. 

Gerard nods. Of course he knew already. 

“Do they have a clue?” 

“They have an ancient text, but it's only a part. We need the other two to be able to read it,” Sam says. 

“It's a cookbook for how to stop the apocalypse?” Dean asks. 

“Yeah, kinda. Emilie's grandmother has another part. She and Bob are in New Orleans now to get it,” Mikey says, “Couldn't use the freaking mail for that. And Emilie wanted to see her and her friend Amanda in case stuff goes wrong after all.” He shrugs like it's nothing. 

“So that means the angel is in the kitchen cooking?” Dean wants to know. 

“Brendon is a good cook. He was alone so long that he had to learn it,” William throws in. He's digging his naked toes into the carpet, wriggling them. They look soft pink and delicate. 

“We have two out of three then?” Dean clarifies. 

“Yeah.” Mikey says. 

“Do we know where the third is?” 

“Not one hundred per cent. We have some ideas.” 

“Is Bobby working on it?” Dean asks. 

Sam nods. “He thinks he can find it, but we aren't sitting around either.” 

Dean nods, he knows that. It's not easy to read a million books and hunt for clues. It's boring and time-consuming. 

“Things are starting to get bad. There were far more 'animal-attacks' in the last few weeks than there were last year,” Mikey says earnestly. 

“You guys checked some of them out?” 

“Yeah. Sam, Bob and me, while William, Brendon and Emilie were hunting for the missing part of the parchment.” 

“We heard of hybrids, too,” Sam says. 

“As in what?” Dean asks. 

“As in werewolf and vampire.” 

“What the fuck?” Dean asks, because seriously what the fuck?

“Dinner's ready!” Brendon yells from the kitchen and they get up. The apocalypse will be still happening after they've eaten and Dean's starving 

~+~  
Emilie and Bob come back a few days later. She is wearing a frilly dress that wouldn't have been out of place in a horror story from the early 19th century about ghosts and lunatic asylums. 

Gerard is pacing the back-porch, Brendon and William are caring for the small tomato plants and herbs in her garden. Dean is not really watching a movie. Sam is in the library, because he's a freak like that. Mikey is drinking coffee, reading a British music magazine. 

“You got it?” he asks looking up from a page. 

“We've got it. It's pretty damaged, but that was to be expected. It's ancient after all. Not only old. We can be glad it doesn't fall apart,” Emilie says. She puts the box with the parchment on the table carefully. 

“We can't read it,” Bob says gruffy. 

“Why not?” 

“It can only be read in full,” Emilie answers. She brushes her long red hair out of her face with an impatient gesture. 

“Fantastic.” 

“Did the Letos say when they'll be here?” Bob asks. 

“Soon,” Dean answers, because that's what Mikey told them. They haven't heard anything else until now. Gerard says not to worry, so Dean tries not to. 

“That means they don't know,” Bob says, he sits down in one of the comfy armchairs and lights a cigarette. 

“I'm going to make tea,” Emilie throws in. Bob nods. 

There is nothing they can do now anyway. Except wait and read books and hunt down the last freaking piece of the parchment. 

~+~  
Bobby hunts it down two days after the Letos arrive. He brings it to Bryar's himself. He looks like hell hounds were on his heels when Dean opens the door to let him in. But he's alive and that's the only thing that counts these days. Dean hugs the living hell out of him and Bobby clings to him for a few seconds too. Bobby was more a father to him and Sam than Dad ever could be, Dean realises.  
After all Dad's still missing and Bobby is here. 

“Letting me in?” Bobby says and Dean lets go of him. 

“Yeah. You're in time for dinner, too.” 

“Great.” 

They make it through the house, where they leave the box with the parchment on the table, to the other side and the garden where the rest is gathered. Bob at the big ass grill. 

“Bobby, everyone. Everyone Bobby,” Dean announces. Sam jumps from his chair and hugs the living hell out of Bobby too, just like Dean did a few minutes before. Bobby hugs back. 

“Great,” Bob says. “Today we eat, tomorrow we're going to stop the apocalypse.”  
Dean thinks that's an excellent plan. 

~+~  
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Sam says and Dean is kinda impressed. His baby-brother is turning out okay. It seems. 

“No,” it's Emilie's no-nonsense voice. “It says: blood of an Angel and a Demon. All in capitals too.” She puts the parchment (held together with a lot of tape) down on the table and spins it so they can read it as well. Or those of them that can read freaking Latin like a second language, which Dean can't. He's okay with the occasional exorcism, but that's all. 

“Freely given,” Sam mutters. “Well, good luck finding a demon in a giving mood.”

“Granted, that won't be easy, but what choice do we have?” Emilie says. She looks a bit worried, but then they all are. Getting the freaking parchment was hard enough, but it seems it's only getting worse from here. At least they have a freaking angel at their side. 

“Vampires are considered lesser demons,” Brendon throws in and Gerard looks at Dean. He knows what Gerard is thinking, because he is thinking the same thing. Damon. 

 

 **~8~**  
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me. It's ass o'clock in the morning and I haven’t had anything to drink yet.” Damon says as he opens the door.  
Dean gives him an unimpressed look. “You're not here for the threesome, I gather.” He opens the door wider so they can come in, because he's sure they're gonna want to. 

“No,” Gerard says and he sounds a bit apologetic about it. 

Damon smiles. It's good to see them. There won't be a day, he thinks, where it wouldn't be a good thing to have Gerard Way look at you like that. And he kinda missed them, too. 

“Is it the apocalypse?” he jokes. 

Dean nods once sharply. 

“Damon, what the hell is taking you so long?” Stefan yells irritated from the living room. As if he had to yell that jerk, Damon thinks. 

“None of your business,” because it isn't. 

“Don't give me that crap,” Stefan answers stepping behind him. Damon doesn't turn. 

Gerard takes a few steps inside and grabs Stefan's hand. Stefan is too surprised and well-mannered to do anything about it. Damon wants to laugh. “You're Stefan, right? We've heard so much about you. It's good to finally meet you.” 

“Gee for god's sake. He's a freaking unstable vampire,” Dean says. He's clearly throwing them all into one pot. Damon can't really blame him for it. 

Stefan gives him a look. “They know? It's supposed to be a secret!”

“Oh come ooon. Half the freaking town knows about us for fuck's sake.” 

“But they don't live here,” Stefan argues. 

Trust Stefan to concentrate on that part. “Come on in Dean, I won't bite.” 

Dean grins. “I know.” 

~+~  
“How did you find me?” he asks as they're seated in the living room. 

“We have our ways and besides if you don't want to be found you don't leave your real name,” Dean answers. He's drinking whisky like Damon and Gerard is making porn-noises over his coffee. Damon nearly forgot the noises Gerard makes over a good cup of coffee. Nearly. 

“Touché,” he says, with a slight nod. Stefan is being a silent and brooding presence in the room. His usual charming self so to speak. “So, what brings you here?”

“The freaking apocalypse. I told you,” Dean answers. 

“I get that you have stuff to do and things to kill and hunt whatever, but I-”

“This is not an exaggeration, Damon. We really are dealing with the apocalypse here. And we need blood of an Angel of the Lord, the brotherhood of seven -” here Dean rolls his eyes - “and the blood of a demon freely given to stop it. Or at least try.” 

“And you thought you have problems,” Damon says with a look at his brother. 

“You have an Angel of the Lord?” Stefan asks, ignoring Damon. Damon could be pissed off, but then Stefan is back and not under Klaus' spell. He takes what he can get. 

Gerard nods. “We do.”

“And the demon blood?” 

“That's why you're here, right?” Damon asks, catching on. 

“Yeah, apparently vampires are considered lesser demons. The angel said it.” Dean drains his glass and doesn't look at Damon. Damon can't blame him. Shit happened, but they are here. 

“Freely given, hmm?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Is this a take it in a bottle kind of deal or does it need to be fresh?” Damon wants to know. 

“What do you think?”

“Yeah, I thought so.” 

“Is it dangerous?” Stefan throws in. 

“As if it matters, dear brother. The thing is these guys don't screw around like our own hunters. If they say it's the apocalypse. It's the apocalypse. If I say no, go fuck yourselves -which-” he stops and Gerard grins. He grins back. “The world will end and with it everything. You, me, Elena. Your precious girlfriend.” 

“That is not-” Stefan starts, but he shuts up and looks away a second later.  
Sometimes Damon has no idea what the hell is going on in that head of his. Sometimes he doesn't care at all. 

“You're not going to sacrifice me on a big black pagan altar, are you?” he jokes, setting his glass down and gets up. It would be a good way to go, although. 

“We might, afterwards,” Dean says, pouring another drink. 

“Ah, promises, promises,” Damon teases. He lets his gaze wander over the furniture, lamps, books – all the ancient crap his family accumulated over the years - wishes he could feel the stupid carpet under his toes right now – just in case. He doesn't look at Stefan. Some things aren't meant to be done. Not by him anyway.

“I'm coming with,” Stefan says. 

“No,” Damon answers.

“Damon.”

“Stefan. I will knock you out if I have to, I will chain you down in the freaking cellar and throw your cell out of the car window in freaking Omaha or Idaho.” And he would do it too. “You can't help anyway and you're needed here to do good and save people and all that jazz.”

Dean turns so Stefan doesn't see his face. Yeah, Gee and Dean get him. After all they're big brothers too. Sometimes you have to play that card. 

“So you're taking off with hunters to save the world,” Stefan clarifies. 

“Seems so. Who would thought it would turn out like that, hmm?” Damon muses out loud. 

“You were the decent one before-” 

“Before I got killed, turned, screwed over and developed a healthy alcohol addiction,” Damon dismisses. He needs to get out of here. Soon. Right now would be best. 

“Okay,” Stefan says eventually, but what else could he say? This here is bigger than them, than there stupid little problems. 

“I'll send you a postcard from the end of the world,” Damon says, getting up. Gee and Dean follow. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Gerard says earnestly. 

“You too,” Damon hears Stefan say. There is a smile in his voice, like he can't help himself. Yeah, Damon thinks, he knows exactly how that feels. “Damon,” he says softly and because he says it just under his breath, only for vampire ears to hear, Damon stops to acknowledge whatever Stefan is going to say. “Take care,” he whispers and Damon nods. He has all the intentions to come back here. This town would fall apart without him scheming. He's pretty sure of it and it would become super boring too. No way is Damon going to let that happen.

~+~  
The car still smells the same. Like leather and a bit like gun-powder and spilled soft-drinks and underneath it all old blood. Dean is silent in the driver's seat. Gerard turns around to look at him. 

“Sorry we're dragging you into this mess,” he says.

“It's not like you put a gun to my head.”

“Wouldn't stick,” Dean says. 

“A stake then. You didn't put a stake to my coal black heart.” Gerard smiles. “I'm doing it because-”

“It's the right thing to do?” Dean throws in. 

“I don't want to die and I am pretty fond of that world we're living in,” Damon answers. It's as close to the truth as he's ready to admit it. Gerard nods like he knows exactly what Damon is not saying and he doesn't care. Maybe he doesn't. Damon knows that Dean doesn't care particularly for the why. Dean is all about getting the job done. And if he was Dean, he wouldn't care much either, he supposes. There is more at stake than their lives. And if Dean has to sacrifice one vampire, well, he's going to do it. Damon can understand that. Something inside him feels exactly the same way. 

~+~  
The house is freaking huge and he can feel something tearing at his skin. Must be protected by a witch. “Man, I hate witches,” he says. 

Dean gives him a look. “Me too,” he answers. 

He's standing on the porch, looking at the door and waiting. “Guys? You know you have to invite me in, right?” he says after a while when nothing happens. 

“Oh, right,” Gerard looks a bit uncomfortable. 

“I'm not going to kill you, drink your blood and steal all your treasures. What good would it do?” he asks. He's really trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice here. 

“I'm going to get Emilie or Bob, they're the owners.” 

“She's the witch,” Dean says. Damon can hear a slight smugness in his voice. Mixed with respect. 

“Great.” 

“And Bob is her boyfriend. I wouldn't ever try to hit on her. He's a scary son of a bitch,” he adds.

“I'm on a world saving mission. I'm not going to hit on the witch.” 

“That's good to know,” the witch in question says. She looks like something out of a 19th century wet dream. There is flour on her cheek and in her dark red locks. Frill on her apron, made of ancient looking lace. Tattered in places. He would hit that in a heartbeat. 

“Hi, I'm Damon. Here to save the world,” he answers. 

She smiles. “Emilie,” she says, shaking his hand. It feels small and delicate in his. He wants to kiss it, like he used to when he was still human and it was the freaking custom. “Please come in.”  
Dean gives him a look. Damon wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he doesn't. He's on his best behaviour for the next few – well, he has no idea. Most likely it won't last longer than the next 24 hours anyway. He does have a temper. 

~+~  
Damon makes out the non-humans in a heartbeat. There is a shifter-kid and then the angel of the lord, who looks like butter couldn't melt in his mouth. 

“Damon everyone. Everyone, Damon,” Dean says, sitting down beside a tall dude, who must be his brother Sam. 

“So, he's the demon?” Mikey asks. Damon only knows that because he smells like Gerard. 

“He smells like a demon, he looks like a demon too,” the angel says. “Not as bad as the real demons, but-” he bites his lip and shrugs in some weird kind of apology. 

“I'm not offended,” Damon says. 

“I know,” the angel answers. “Just, I-” he stops again like he has no idea what he even wanted to say. Damon thinks they are kind of doomed, if that is the angel that is supposed to help them battle the freaking apocalypse. 

“Can I see the parchment?” 

“It's in Latin,” Emilie says. 

Damon shrugs, it's not like he didn't have to learn it. His father insisted on that shit. It's a bit rusty, but he's sure he can make out most of the text. “Let me see it.”

She leaves and when she comes back she's caring a big wooden box in her hands. Something smells odd, he thinks. And when she opens it he knows exactly what. He isn't sure they know the parchment is made from human skin, if they don't know it, he's not going to tell. He takes it out carefully and reads. 

The ritual seems pretty straight forward, but then why make it all so super complicated anyway? He's sure the author of that thing thought getting the ingredients would be impossible, so the ritual wouldn't be anything to worry about. Getting blood of a demon is the easy part here. A freaking angel on the other side. He puts the parchment into the box and looks at the angel. 

“A freaking angel of the lord,” he says. 

“Yeah. I'm Brendon and I just kind of landed here. I don't think it was supposed to be like this.” 

Damon wonders how it was supposed to be then. Was the big plan that the whole world goes to hell and the sun never shines? Hordes of zombies in the streets? New world order? And all that jazz? He doesn't ask any of that though. It wouldn't change a thing. Not unless someone could go back in time, but why would they want to do that anyway? 

“And no one tried to get to you?” Damon wonders instead. 

“The Ways found me, the car is protected and the house is too. The Bryar grounds are like a black hole. No one knows what is happening here.” 

“Handy,” he says and thinks that it would be good to have the boarding house protected like that.  
Would certainly help against the stupid originals, the hybrids and other unwelcome guests. They would safe so much on repair costs too. He should talk to Emilie about it after this whole thing is over. 

~+~  
“Blood-bags?” Damon asks, unbelievingly, catching the bag with ease, even if Gerard has terrible aim. Thank god that doesn't translate to guns and bows and all the nice deadly weapons he uses on a semi-daily basis. He would've been screwed otherwise. 

Gerard nods. “Yeah. You can't go out. No one can know you're helping us and I bet people are catching on that something is brewing here.” 

“Brewing, really?” 

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Emilie is brewing the poison, isn't she?” 

“She is,” Damon answers, tearing into the blood-bag. He is starving after all. “So I'll be on stale blood diet for the foreseeable future.” 

“You wanna be kidnapped, tortured and killed?” 

“No,” Damon answers. 

“Then yeah, you will be having blood-bags only for the foreseeable future.” 

“You know if something should've happen to me, you could ask Stefan. He would do it,” Damon says. He wants them to have all the options. 

“Nothings gonna happen to you here.” 

“I don't know. Shannon looks at me like he wants to set my clothes on fire,” Damon answers. 

“He could. Don't mess with him or his brother, okay?” 

Damon grins. “Me, messing around with mortals? Would I do something like that?” 

Gerard smiles back at him. “You're lucky we like you.” 

Damon nods, he guesses he is. “I am a likeable guy,” he says nevertheless. 

“Less and less by the second,” Dean says from the door. He's leaning against the frame looking hot. 

“Don't even pretend,” Damon answers. 

Dean smiles. Sharply. “I see you found your own little fridge with frozen dinners.”

“It'll do. But after we saved the freaking world I am going to eat something fresh.” 

Dean's body becomes rigid and alert. 

“Damon,” Gerard says. 

“Don't,” Damon answers, a bit too sharply. He is here, he tries, but he isn't going to change what he is. Isn't going to be domesticated. Refuses to be a tamed, toothless tiger. “I am what I am.” And after a while of silence he adds: “And I'm no worse than the one or other mortal.” 

Dean nods, says: “You're here.” 

“Yeah,” Damon answers, because the bottom line is: he's here and it should be enough.

 

 **~9~**  
The days until the ritual can be performed are mostly about waiting and being in each other's pockets. It's not so bad. Dean thinks he's never been around so much supernatural energy, beings, whatever before. 

“Dad would flip if he knew,” he says and Sam looks up from the comic he's reading. The Ways have a shitload of comics stored at Bryar's and a good thing it is too, because even Sam can't always read ancient dusty texts in dead languages. No one could. Well, maybe Bobby, but Emilie's library is still knew to him and he wants to copy _everything_.

“Knew what?” 

“That we're living with an angel, a shifter and a freaking vampire. And let's not forget the witch.” 

Sam smiles. “He would flip if he cared, but he doesn't. And besides Damon grew on you, didn't he?” 

He did is the thing, before they knew he was a freaking vampire who can walk in daylight. Sunshine be damned. “He is a mean bastard. Good at pool and cards, though.” 

“I'm kinda glad we landed here, you know?” 

“What fighting the freaking apocalypse?” 

“No ,with the Ways. They're just so-”

“Different is the word you're looking for,” Dean cuts in. 

Sam nods. “I bet if we would've been the ones to find the angel we would've tried to shot him and then some more. He would've been freaked from here to hell and the world would've been doomed.” 

“Or we would've maybe found us another angel,” Dean says. 

Sam gives him a look. “How likely is that?” 

“How likely is any of this?” Dean gives back. 

“Point,” Sam answers and after a pause: “Did you read Doom Patrol?” 

“No, I'm not into comics.”

“I didn't either, but I'm trying to. Go and play pool with the vampire and the pyromaniac.” 

“Shannon is a mean player.” 

Sam smiles. “It's what you like about him.” 

Dean doesn't answer. 

~+~  
The truth is that Dean is getting kinda restless and antsy. He likes it here too much. This is not how they were raised, but it's what Sam always wanted and what he had when he went to Stanford, when he was living with Jess. A home to come back to. Hand-baked pie and lazy evenings in front of the TV. Talking about school with the kids, not that Dean is talking much about school with the kids. The kids aren't even going to school. Yet. 

And then there are the Letos too, who have a home to go back to somewhere as well. Gee says no one knows what they're doing when they aren't crossing hunter-paths, but he thinks they just go back. They have family, too. 

Even freaking Damon has a house and a brother and although his home-town is a fucking playground for the supernatural, they manage. They're staying, fighting for their right to live wherever they want to. 

It's possible for hunters to have that. Bobby has it too, now that Dean thinks about it. Maybe he and Sam as well. Sure Bobby doesn't bake them freaking pie, but he gives them blankets and whisky, orders take out and lets them crash at his place whenever they need a place to stay. Whenever they need to feel save. 

“Thinking deep thoughts?” Emilie asks, sitting down next to him. 

“No more than on any other day,” he answers and she smiles at him. What a fucking lucky bastard Bryar is, Dean thinks. 

“It's going to be okay. I can do it. I will use your energy to boost the spell. William and the Letos are very powerful. Sam too,” she says. 

“He doesn't think so,” Dean answers. He still doesn't like to think about it too much. It doesn't freak him out any more like it used to, but it still isn't his top five favourite topic to discuss over a cup of coffee. 

“I know, but he is,” she replies. 

“He likes it here,” Dean says. 

“You're both very welcome here any time you're in the neighbourhood,” she answers with a smile. There's something in her eyes that he likes. Like a warm smile. 

~+~  
“So, you're staying like that or will the angel leave when we're done saving the world?” Damon asks. It's a good question. Dean is kinda curious about it too. 

“I don't know yet. Sometimes it feels like we are one already. Like he gave up on getting out and leaving the body. The host. Me. I have no idea if that means I am immortal now or if it means the angel is going to die.” Brendon doesn't look up from the soft carpet he was staring at all the time. 

“I cut myself to see if I was a shifter,” William says softly. His toes are touching Brendon's naked knee. He wriggles them and Brendon smiles. 

“I hope you don't think about blowing your brains against the ceiling,” Damon says sharply. 

Brendon shakes his head seriously shaken. “No. I wouldn't. I'll just wait it out. Maybe if I get older, maybe that means I'll die and the angel dies too. Maybe he'll find a way to leave again.” 

“We don't know what will happen, but you can stay here,” William says. 

“Thanks,” Brendon smiles again. 

“Aren't they cute,” Damon whispers. 

Dean grins. They are. He wonders how Gee is dealing with the fact that the puppies are falling in love. He's probably happy for William, that huge sap. 

~+~  
“It's kinda anticlimactic that there is no real big bad villain,” Gerard says and Mikey nods. They're drinking coffee in the garden. It's warm and sunny and nothing indicates the forthcoming doom.

“I'm not sure I find it better that way. It's less personal,” Jared answers. 

Dean doesn't know what he feels exactly about that, he is only glad that he doesn't have to face it alone with Sam. Their chances of survival are better that way. 

“It doesn't need to be personal. I prefer it that way,” Shannon throws in. He lights a cigarette with his fingers and hands it over to Gerard who's sharing with Mikey, then lights one for himself.  
Shannon doesn't like to set fire to living things, Dean learned. It's a healthy attitude. Dean can get behind that. 

“The waiting makes me crazy,” Damon says. 

“The lack of fresh blood makes you crazy,” Shannon answers. Shannon doesn't have a problem with Damon's eating habits. He's all live and let live and they all know Damon isn't exactly evil. No one here is a saint either. Except maybe Brendon, the angel of the freaking lord. 

“That too,” Damon admits. 

“It's only for another two days.” 

“And then we'll part ways after we've saved the world. And no one will know,” William says softly. 

“We will know,” Gerard answers. “That's enough.” 

It really is, Dean thinks. 

~end~


End file.
